


The Prince

by LeafoftheFox



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Arthur is a good dude, Fear, Ghosts, Magic, Peasants, Rumours, Servant Loyalty, Servants, Strength, Tags Are Hard, Tags Contain Spoilers, Uther Pendragon's A+ Parenting (Merlin), no beta we die like men, nobles - Freeform, who listens to his mum
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-10
Updated: 2020-03-10
Packaged: 2021-02-22 23:00:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23001781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeafoftheFox/pseuds/LeafoftheFox
Summary: When The Prince was very young, he rarely cried. Instead, he would laugh, eyes following some unseen figure around his room..."The Prince...""The Prince..."
Relationships: Arthur Pendragon & Uther Pendragon (Merlin), Ygraine de Bois & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 190





	The Prince

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [for reasons wretched and divine](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19442419) by [ZenzaNightwing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZenzaNightwing/pseuds/ZenzaNightwing). 



> I recently read for reasons wretched and divine by ZenzaNightwing and just loved the style of it all. This fic isn't much related to it, but I was trying for the same kind of feel. Also, if anyone can give me advice on what tags to include, I'd really appreciate it :)

When The Prince was very young, he rarely cried. Instead, he would laugh, eyes following some unseen figure around his room.

Once he could walk, he would stagger about, chasing something his nursemaids couldn’t discern.

  
The King, worrying that this was the attempt of a vengeful sorcerer to twist his only son’s mind, called in every witchfinder and physician who would come. There were searches, examinations, inquisitions.

They found nothing. 

Eventually it was concluded by the court physician that the boy simple had an overactive imagination and the matter was laid to rest.

The nursemaids now ignored the babbles at nothing and the staring into space for fear that suggesting the prince was anything less than normal would incite the king’s famous wrath.

And so, The Prince grew, doted upon, fawned over, trained to kill, the apple of his father’s eye. He became normal and old worries of enchantment over him were forgotten… Almost.

Whispers persisted in the lower town:

“The Prince talks to himself.”

“I heard the prince…”

“He sometimes stares at nothing.”

“Maybe he’s enchanted.”

“Maybe he’s mad.”

“The Prince…”

“The Prince…”

Despite this, he grew older. He honed his skills and gained respect. He would sit in on court meetings, ever watchful, ever listening. He became head of the knights, well liked and by some well feared.

  
The rumours changed.

  
Visiting nobles would murmur in the halls: 

“The Prince will know if you insult him.”

“The Prince will see if you try to betray him.”

“Don’t whisper where he can see you, he will always hear your words.”

Servants shared stories in nooks that only they could find:

“The Prince appears if a noble tries to hurt you.”

“The Prince gave Ayana leave when she was pregnant. She hadn’t told a soul.”

“The Prince will find you if you neglect your duties.”

“The Prince knows the servant’s chambers.”

“The Prince still looks at nothing.”

“The Prince is kind.”

“The Prince is noble.”

“The Prince knows.”

“Just like his mo-!”

“The Prince…”

“The Prince…”

The Prince never returned from a hunt empty handed, always he would lead the party unerringly to a strong buck or a vicious boar. When The Prince chased down bandits who terrorised poor subjects, he never needed tracks to follow or smoke to chase. No matter how well hidden you were, The Prince would find you.

Servants would hear The Prince conversing in his room.

  
“Simply practising speeches,” they would say if asked.

  
The Prince always pulled up another chair when he ate alone.

  
“Anticipating the lady Morgana, who sometimes joins him. So polite, such a gentleman.” No matter that he only asked for food for one.

The Prince still often stares at nothing.

“Simply thinking, lost in his own head.”

Once, a noble came to the castle. A simple prideful man, the owner of a small amount of land upon which he had built a lavish home and allowed lesser peasants to till much of the remaining. At a cost, of course.

No one knows what happened one night two days into his stay at the castle, but the next day he stormed the thrown room, ranting and raving.

“The Prince is magic!” he screamed.

“The Prince is not human!” he cried.

“The Prince should be executed!” he snarled.

The next day, the prideful noble’s head rolled across the courtyard stones, a spectacle for all to see. The Prince was notably absent.

The noble's last words as his eyes rolled frantically in his head before the axe fell:

“The Prince! The Pri-!”

No noble or visiting entourage dared to scorn the prince after that, terrified of the growing madness, cruelty and secrecy of the king. Even the slightest suspicion of sorcery would end with a citizen dead, yet the very man most suspect by many lay protected at the heart of the kingdom.

You must know however, that a situation like this does not stop rumours:

“I heard The Prince is a sorcerer.”

“I heard he was sent by the triple goddess, a punishment for the king’s pride.”

“I heard The King created him through magic and sacrificed the Que-.”

“The King was so desperate for an heir!”

“The Queen rejoiced, it was a miracle.”

“The Prince knows.”

“So kind.”

“He always knows.”

“He would protect a peasant with his life.”

“He always sees.”

“The Prince…”

“The Prince…”

It only makes them quieter.

The King grew strong.

“He looks tired.”

“He killed my sister.”

“I hate him.”

“I’d kill hi-!”

He made many alliances and quashed all magical presence that appeared. He triumped over the blight that magic tried to impose on his realm.

“So many men lost.”

“He was just a child, just a child.”

“I can’t watch this, I just cant-!”

“We have to _go_.”

“I’m sorry.”

Smoke painted the skies, blood painted the stone, The King’s castle resembled him.

And then it happened.

“The Prince is angry.”

“I heard he was locked in the dungeons.”

“I heard the King never sleeps.”

“What did The Prince do?”

“I heard he saved a servant.”

“I heard he used sorcery.”

“I heard he released a sorcerer.”

“The Prince…”

“The Prince…”

The castle was quiet…

When The Prince returned he was straight backed and unbothered. When he attended his first court meeting The King stared at him. The Prince stared at nothing. He spoke smoothly, convincingly, easily soothing the noble’s worries. 

The Prince never looked at The King.

This is what new servants were taught when they entered the den on the dragons:

“Never draw The Prince’s ire,” stern and unwavering.

  
“Never claim the Prince a liar,” a warning, with a sad fear in their eyes.

“Never speak against The King,” frantic and hushed, panicked terror radiating from them.

“Ignore the hate the King’s words bring,” hissed quietly, their face a rictus of pained anger.

“If in danger, call The Prince,” insisted gently, belief shining in their eyes.

“That he is sane, always convince,” begged ardently, a fiery determination rolling off them.

“Ignore the actions that seem manic,” spoken with calm sympathy.

“Never speak the word of magic,” whispered in shadowed, private corners.

“The Prince is kind.”

“The Prince is noble.”

“The Prince will know.”

“The Prince…”

“The Prince…”

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, another Ghosts AU, I just can't help myself. I went for slightly different style than usual, so I hope it went well. Please let me know! :) I've really enjoyed writing this and I have material for a couple more standalone chapters if anyone wants that.  
> ~Leaf


End file.
